


“i’ll meet you halfway.”

by clickingkeyboards



Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [72]
Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F, First Dates, Graffiti, M/M, Revenge, daisy is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clickingkeyboards/pseuds/clickingkeyboards
Summary: When Hazel catches Daisy up to no good, there's only one thing that she can think of to do when Daisy begs her not to rat: her silence is bought with the promise of a date.Modern AUWritten for the seventy-second prompt in the '100 ways to say "I love you"' prompt list by p0ck3tf0x on Tumblr.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady/George Mukherjee (mentioned), Daisy Wells/Hazel Wong
Series: one hundred ways to say 'i love you' [72]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533164
Kudos: 21





	“i’ll meet you halfway.”

_What is she doing?_

It’s blatantly obvious. Still in uniform and poised over the bonnet of Miss Griffin’s chic new Porsche with a can of yellow spray paint is Daisy Wells, the rather ditsy and hopeless troublemaker of Year 10 who, despite her silliness, excels at every exam and assignment.

It’s not unusual to see vulgar images spray-painted on teacher’s cars after GCSEs by the leaving Year 11’s, but it’s quite the rarity to come across it on a chilly afternoon in mid-March, and certainly rare for a well-constructed sentence to be displayed across the bonnet. 

Thinking on her feet, I reach for her phone and take a clear photo of Daisy Wells before calling out, “Did you do this?”

“Yeah,” she says casually, capping the paint and shoving it in her bag. “What’re you going to do about it?”

Holding up my phone, I frankly say, “Send this to Miss Griffin, why do you ask?”

Instantly, her persona melts away. “ _Please_ don’t!” she protested, cockiness vanishing. “Come on, I’ll do anything if you don’t get me in trouble!”

I can see how desperate she is for me to _not_ tell Miss Griffin, and realise that my love for the rules… well, it simply isn’t important on this occasion. A very George-ish idea sparks into my head, and I’m speaking before my thought is even finished. “I’ve got an offer: you take me to dinner, and I don’t know that this happened.”

“Alright.” She held out a hand. “There’s a place down the road we can go, the Willow Tea Rooms. When d’you want to go?”

“I don’t mind if it’s not a date, I…” I begin to stutter, staring up at her mischievous face.

“Nah, you’re pretty cute. Witty, too. Sharp as anything, from all your awards. Plus, you’re friends with Mukherjee. You can’t be all that bad.” Stowing her can of spray paint in her backpack, she says, “Willow Tea Rooms at six-thirty, Hazel Wong.”

With that, she takes off, and I’m left staring dumbfounded with my mouth half open and my phone in my hand. Fingers only slightly shaking, I delete the photo of Daisy crouched over the car.

* * *

**Alexander Arcady**

**_4:15pm_ **

_I've got a date._

_No, you haven’t! -George_

_Who is it?_

_She’s called Daisy. There’s about 15 Daisys at D &W so that doesn’t narrow it down for you, and I don’t plan on specifying because then George and Kitty will find out somehow. _

_SHE?_

_Yes._

_Beanie, Lavinia, and I owe Kitty and George some money._

_You were betting on my sexuality? But you know I’m bi?_

_Betting on which gender you would ask out first._

_ALEXANDER._

_It was only a joke, Hazel! We didn’t mean anything by it. And anyway, if you get too angry about it, your hair will go all frizzy and you might not look nice for your date. :P_

_ >:/ _

_Also, on a completely unrelated note, I know who was behind ‘Thou shall not talk shit’._

_????_

_You'll understand tomorrow, probably._

**_6:17pm_ **

_As far as you’re aware, I’m at yours._

_Gotcha._

_Want me to take some photos that look as though you’ve taken them?_

_You know, to send your dad if he asks._

_You’re an angel._

_;)_

_Nevermind I take that back, I hate you._

* * *

I don't even realise that I'm staring until Daisy points it out. I stare at and admire blonde hair and blue eyes, and only shake out of it when Daisy says, “You’re not too much of an eyesore yourself, Wong.”

With that, she grabs my hand and pulls me inside the tea rooms, sitting us at a two-person table by the window. As I study the menu, George’s advice runs rings in my mind.

“Don’t get anything more expensive than she gets, if she's paying, and wait for her to order first. I can’t believe that you got a date, by the way.”

When I look up, something entirely unfilling and inexpensive in my mind, Daisy is staring at me. Unabashed, as if she’s used to looking at whatever she likes. Too caught up in staring back, I only break the unbearable tension when the waiter walks over.

“And what would you young ladies like today?”

“Two of this one,” Daisy says, tapping it on the menu and raising an eyebrow at my shocked face. When he walks away, she says, “I could tell thank you were going to order something cheap. If you asked anyone for advice, you asked Mukherjee. I love the guy but… I don’t play by his rules.”

Laughing, I hide my face in my hand and say, “You’re right there. I mean, his advice can’t be that bad, if he used it to hook in Alexander.”

“Yeah, that’s _Alexander_. I’m not him,” she says, reaching out to take my hand. I jolt at her touch involuntarily, and she snorts.

“People hold hands on dates, Hazel Wong.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I say, “ _Right_.”

“I’ll pay the bill,” she says, filling the silence with her commanding voice.

“No, I will!” I retort, surprised to even _want_ to pay. I always used to think it ridiculous, adults wanting to pay for a meal. Now here I am, doing it myself.

“I’ll meet you halfway on it, then,” she argues.

Able to tell that that’s as good as I’ll get, I deflate, her hand still in mine, and say, “Fine.”

“Say… you aren’t going to tell anyone about the car, right?” she says, bold enough that I don’t want to disagree, but open enough that I know that I _can_.

“Of course not! But… why did you do it?”

“None of your business.” She bounces her leg under the table, and I feel it against mine. “Oh, alright. You know how she teaches some GCSE English?”

“Hm?”

Taking out her phone, she shows me one of the many Instagram accounts run by students, used to document the chaos at Deepdean and Weston School for Ladies and Gentlemen. “She has my class twice a fortnight and she was showing us some exemplar descriptive essays, and…”

She taps on a post and the video starts playing.

_“This essay is written by Al—” Then she looks down at the example paper in her hands, and says, “Nevermind this essay, we don’t need to be reading this drivel.”_

_“Oh, please, Miss!” pleads Kitty Freebody at the front. “Let us hear!”_

_Rolling her eyes, she clears her through in an over-exaggerated manner and begins to read out the essay. “‘I feel and I know every thought in his mind, almost as if they are and better than I know my own. His eyes are on me and his hand is in mine, and we breathe in unison. We feel for each other, watch each other, and we don’t want to wait. When he closes his eyes, mine stay open. I wonder what it would feel like, his lips pressed to mine? Would it be like the Shelly poem, where the fountains mingle with the river and winds of Heaven mis forever, and the moonbeams kiss the sea?’—” She stops and sighs, and then rips the sheet of paper in half suddenly. “This was written by a_ **_male student_ ** _.”_

_“So what?!” Daisy yells suddenly, from where she’s sitting in front of the person filming. “So what if it’s written by a boy, so fucking what?”_

_“DETENTION, WELLS!”_

_“LIKE I FUCKING CARE!”_

The caption of the video is ‘in which Daisy said what we were all thinking’. I look up at her. “I— _Daisy_.”

“You know Stephen Bampton?” she asks, setting down her phone on the table.

I recall the name with shock. _Yes_ , I know him, because who doesn’t? He’s a murderer, an ex-student disgraced, who doesn’t know his name and despise the taste of it on their tongue?

“My brother wrote that essay, for his mock GCSE. He wrote it _about Bampton_ . When he loved him. The school said that they had destroyed it. But… she _read it out_ , read out my brother’s affections for a murderer and belittled him for those feelings when he _couldn’t have known better_.”

I reach out and take her hand so that both of mine are clasped in hers. “Mind if I go over that graffiti in another colour tomorrow? You know, really cement it in?”

She laughs. “Don't let me corrupt you, Hazel Wong.”

* * *

“Hazel! This is _glorious_ , come and look!” Kitty shrieks, rushing to the bench I sit on in the mornings before school, reading books, and I let her grab my hand and drag me over to the car park. There, half the student body is gathered around Miss Griffin’s car, spray painted with the words ‘Thou shall not talk shit’. Once in yellow, and over the top again in red.

“Oh _god_ , she’s going to be _so mad_!” Lavinia practically cackles, while Beanie looks nothing short of horrified at the vandalism.

Daisy Wells comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Hazel.”

I jump.

“Wouldn’t pin you as a vandal.”

“I had a good reason and a great teacher.”

“I’m a bad influence on _Hazel Wong_ ,” she mutters. “Fuck me.”

George Mukherjee pipes up from behind us. “Say please.”

She turns and glares at him. “You’ve terrible dating advice, Mukherjee.”

“Worked for me, didn’t it?” he replies, folding his arms over his perfectly pressed shirt. “Now, let’s bolt before someone sees the two people who have a _great_ reason to have done _that_.”

“Which would be?” I ask, frowning at him.

“Let’s just say I know her brother,” he says, and then he and Daisy are off like two torpedos shot across the field.


End file.
